I'm Sorry I'm Me
by SaraBarns
Summary: You're not supposed to read someone else's journal... but Romano won't mind, right? Hopefully he isn't mad. But... When Spain bought Romano a journal... he was expecting doodles of tomatoes and steamy confessions. Maybe even a hit list or two. But he wasn't expecting a list of everything Romano finds wrong with himself. Maybe it was a good idea to read Romano's journal after all.


**A/N:** Uhm. Here, have some of my thoughts.

* * *

"Fusososo..." I chuckled gleefully, as I crept into Romano's room. The Italian nation had been sent out to pick tomatoes, with the threat of me making a pizza instead of him hanging in the air if he didn't. I knew it would work. Romano hates my pizzas. I don't really know why. But does it matter? It worked~!

I glanced back down the hallway once (to check for any Romanos who might be creeping through the hallways after me- you never know!) before nodding to myself decisively and shutting the door to Romano's room, before turning to the bed.

There it was~! The corner was poking out from beneath Romano's tomato-shaped pillow. That black and white pattern was so boring, but so well-known as the cover of composition notebooks. It was the one I'd bought him just yesterday.

I gave it to him last night after he'd smashed half my plates in a fit of frustration earlier that evening. I would have just helped him clean it up and given him lots of hugs if it were a normal breakdown, but it wasn't. He'd forced me out of the kitchen and locked me out of my own house for a few hours. So I went to France and Prussia! Because they've always given me great advice~! They're such good friends~!

But anyway. I asked them what they thought I should do, and for some reason, both of them seemed to be of the opinion that Romano had developed a crush on someone. I said it was ridiculous, because _mi poco tomate_ was too young for that, but they told me he was 152 years old. I might have choked on my smoothie just a little bit...~ But France suggested I get him a journal~! And it was such a good idea, I went out and did it right away!

Then Prussia called me, and he said I should check it later to see who Romano's crush was. I remembered France saying something about journals being private, but I figured it wasn't too important or he would have stressed the point.

Knocking a smoothie over while standing on a table and dramatically announcing that journals are private property of _l'amour_ isn't stressing a point, is it?

I sat on the edge of Romano's bed, and slid the journal out from beneath the pillow. It wasn't sneaking, right? I just wanted to see who Romano had a crush on, (or how much he had improved at drawing tomatoes) so I would know who to visit with my axe if they ever broke his heart~!

I wasn't sneaking.

Not at all.

Nope.

I bought the journal for Romano, so it was my property!

Technically.

Unless whoever _l'amour_ is wants it back.

I cracked it open, observing a tomato drawn on the inside cover, and smiled a little (So he had taken my advice on how to draw the stem~!) before looking to the first page, and beginning to read.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Dear..._

_Fucking stupid book thing which I shall never call a fucking journal because that's fucking girly and I'm a manly motherfucker._

_Well. Spain gave me this journ- fuck, it's not a journal! It's a book! Or something!_

_Whatever it is, Spain gave it to me today._

_I think it's the fucking stupidest thing. I'm too fucking old for this shit. It's 2012, I don't need a fucking journal to write my feelings down in, I'm certainly old enough to be on my own. Hmph, not like the bastard will realize that any time soon._

_Either way... he seems to be under the impression that writing my feelings down could help me feel better about myself._

_Which of course, is complete and utter bullshit, because I love myself. I'm fucking amazing._

_Okay, so maybe I'm a klutz. That doesn't mean shit. I'm still pretty amazing._

_I-I don't care if Nonno Rome said otherwise. Bastard was fucking drunk all the time anyway. So fucking WHAT if he chose Feliciano over me? I'm still part of Italy, he can't fucking change THAT._

_And... so what if Feliciano is better than me? Hell, I don't need friends. Not friends of these douches anyway._

_And I don't care if the cagnas I flirt with don't ever like me back. Who needs them? I'm fucking immortal. I'd outlive them all anyway. Screw women, I'm a happy single bastard._

_And maybe I am afraid of a lot of things. That's mostly because I'm life's exception to sucking at everything, and Lady Luck hates me like her first real ex-boyfriend or something._

_And so maybe I'm not so intelligent. That's not my fault though… I just don't always catch onto things as easily as other people do. Call it obliviousness as much as you like, I'd like to call it innocence and use it as a mask when I go to church. The mafia… and possibly being gay… aren't exactly accepted there. I have to have something good in me somewhere. Maybe this is the only thing I do have._

_I... I don't see why I need this fucking book. Nope, not at all._

_Fuck, I'm the world's biggest klutz. Why, dammit?_

_Why am I so fucking uncoordinated? How come bastards like Spain and America get to be so fucking athletic, and I'm just me? All fucking awkward and clumsy._

_I can't help it, dammit! Spain knows that! I had Cholera when I was his colony, that's why I fucking broke all his stuff! Because I was fucking shaking all the time! God-damned black plague._

_And now... well I still suck at everything. But back then, that shouldn't have made him want to trade me for my brother! That was just fucking cruel!_

_Yeah, and speaking of Feliciano, why the fuck does everyone like him better than me?_

_(Why did Nonno Rome like him better than me...? Aren't you supposed to treat family equally...? Am I less than Feliciano? Did Nonno Rome know that just from looking at me?)_

_So I don't fucking grasp other people as well as he does._

_So I'm (apparently) the only one who didn't take one look at Prussia and KNOW he was gay._

_So I don't know what people are gonna do before they do it._

_I get fucking flustered, alright?! It's not my damn fault!_

_You can't fucking practice social skills, you either have them or you don't! Actually, or in my case, you're born with antisocial skills!_

_I mean, why the fuck does everyone have to make it so fucking painfully clear to me that they like my brother better, hmm?_

_"Oh, that's Italy Veniziano's brother? But he's so rude and clumsy! Are you sure he's related to that angel?"_

_Well fuck you too, buddy, has it ever occurred to anyone that I have feelings -and ears!- too?!_

_And... and don't even get me started on women! So what if I might be gay, they can't see that!_

_(R-Right...? Or is a gaydar REAL? Because if it is I don't have one.)_

_That shouldn't mean they automatically shift and go for Feliciano or Spain, depending on which one is with me (because everyone else stays as far as fucking possible away from me) because they're not THAT much more attractive than me! Right?_

_...r-right?_

_And... I'm only so afraid of tons of shit because I'm scared I'll fuck something up._

_Che, you think after fucking up as much in life as I have, you'd be used to it. You think you'd be used to making a complete moron out of yourself, but no._

_You never get used to it. And you know what? I fucking hate it when I mess up. I fucking hate it even more when everyone laughs at me for it. That's a more common occurrence than you'd think. "Well what happened to manners? What happened to being polite?" you ask._

_I don't fucking know, dammit. If I did I'd tell you. I just don't know. It's like manners die a little more with every generation. Stupid fucking humans._

_And I'm just so fucking oblivious. It's not even innocence. Who am I kidding. I'm too fucked up to be innocent. I've done things to other people that should never have been done. They probably didn't deserve it. And I've done shit to myself I know I shouldn't have. Nobody really innocent of anything would do that. I think it's a sin, anyway. Hurting yourself. You're not supposed to. Not like I've ever been an avid follower of the bible, or anything… (gay, and all…) And if I'm not good enough for God, who am I good enough for?_

_Nobody._

_I'm worthless. I'm nothing. I'm a waste of space. I'm a broken link. I'm a dead battery. I'm a busted wheel. I'm a rotten tomato._

_I... I get it already, you know?_

_I'm clumsy._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm stupid._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm not attractive._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm not intelligent._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm not social._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm only half a nation._

_I'm sorry._

_My brother is friendlier than me._

_I'm sorry._

_He cooks better than I do._

_I'm sorry._

_He cleans better than I do._

_I'm sorry._

_He looks better than I do._

_I'm sorry._

_Everyone chooses him over me._

_I'm sorry._

_Nobody likes me._

_I'm sorry._

_I was just a colony to everyone._

_I'm sorry._

_I was just a BURDEN to everyone._

_I'm... sorry._

_Every time I try to help I just fuck it up even more._

_I'm sorry..._

_I can't clean._

_I'm sorry..._

_I'm rude._

_I'm s-sorry..._

_Even Spain prefers my brother._

_I-I'm..._

_Nobody likes me as I am, they all want fucking Feliciano Veniziano Italy Vargas._

_I..._

_My name, derived from Rovino, literally means "I ruin," and I do._

_I-I..._

_I ruin everything._

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

_Nobody wants Lovino Romano Italy Vargas._

_I..._

_Not even I do._

_I'm sorry I even exist._

_I'm sure everyone would be better off without me anyway._

_I'm sorry I'm stupid and unattractive and clumsy and cumbersome and a waste of space._

_I'm sorry Spain had to deal with me. I'm sorry he still does. I'm sorry I'm taking up Feliciano's spotlight._

_I'm sorry I exist... and..._

_I'm sorry I'm me._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Oh, Romano..."

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah... I'm not doing good. I might specify on a few of the main-er topics in here, if I'm feeling particularly angsty... er... angstier. I dunno.

I mean, I'm getting shit in Chem, because I don't really get it, and there was this huge fiasco where I tried to change classes cause my teacher sucks and can't teach and they wouldn't let me switch teachers.

And then one of my two (so I thought) best friends blew up at me and now we're not even speaking and I have four classes with her.

I've had 4 quizzes today and I got a Spanish quiz back on which I got a 76 which is not okay, which is gonna drop my grade. And if I get lower than a B on the Chem test I took today (I think I did) I have to stay after with this bitch who I was forced to TELL I wanted to change classes so I could switch out of her class.

And one of my friends made a remark about me having emotional breakdowns all the time which isn't okay because it's true and it makes me feel like shit.

And my little sister IS my Feliciano, she WON'T ever shut up when I'm doing my homework, so I can't focus, and I can't get it done, and THAT'S a problem, and she can sing and I can't, and my dad bitches at ME when he's drunk off his ass, and NOT at her, EVER, so I have shit self confidence and she's this little fucking singer.

And I can't get all this fucking homework done (two AP and honors chem which I can't figure out, almost honors everything else) and I haven't come out as bisexual to barely ANYONE yet, and it's not okay, because it's stressing me out, and I don't know what to do, and I feel like a complete piece of shit, and I feel like a MORON because I'm gonna have to stay after in Chem, and it's NOT okay, and I can't even.

I'm gonna break my keyboard if I keep hitting it like this, too.

And as if all this isn't fucking bad enough, I want my Spain, dammit, but she's not into me that way.


End file.
